


Chasing Gold

by abovethesmokestacks



Category: The Bronze (2015)
Genre: Alpha!Lance, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, F/M, Female Reader, I am a slut for this trope ok, Lance is a bit of an asshole but he is your asshole, The sass is real, omega!reader, sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 12:43:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18620881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovethesmokestacks/pseuds/abovethesmokestacks
Summary: When the phone rings and Lance’s name flashes across the blinking screen, she has half a mind to just let it ring. He’s been downright insufferable the past few days, moody and more protective than anything she's ever seen from him in the brief time the two of them have been seeing each other. Out of all her partners he is by far the one most archetypal of his presentation, so Alpha he made her knees weak the first time they met. Big, strong and protective, he is everything an omega would look for. He is also currently, much to her chagrin, everything that pisses her off; moody and stubborn, refusing to acknowledge that he is on the edge of his Rut and should be more careful.





	Chasing Gold

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've had this one sitting in my in-progress folder for a while, and what can I say. I love A/B/O, and after seeing Endgame yesterday I need to think about something else. So alpha!Lance it is.

When the phone rings and Lance’s name flashes across the blinking screen, she has half a mind to just let it ring. He’s been downright insufferable the past few days, moody and more protective than anything she's ever seen from him in the brief time the two of them have been seeing each other. Out of all her partners he is by far the one most archetypal of his presentation, so Alpha he made her knees weak the first time they met. Big, strong and protective, he is everything an omega would look for. He is also currently, much to her chagrin, everything that pisses her off; moody and stubborn, refusing to acknowledge that he is on the edge of his Rut and should be more careful.

Even so, the incessant ringing wins out, and she answers the call with an eye roll.

“I swear to god, if this is a booty call, I will hang up immediately.”

_“Tempting, but no.”_

“Hope?”

Pulling the phone away from her ear to double check the caller ID, she frowns when it clearly says “Tucker”. She has Hope’s number, more as a last measure than anything else. The female Alpha works at the same gym as Lance, and if she couldn’t get a hold of Lance, she could be fairly sure that Hope would be within shouting distance from him, her tongue as sharp as her teeth.

_“Gee, you got me. Look, you need to come get Tucker.”_

“What’s wrong?”

_“I told the asshole to stay the fuck home, but he’s as stubborn as herpes and twice as infuriating. Now Fucker is locked in his office and trying not to knot anything remotely shaped like a cunt.”_

“Wait, he went into his Rut?” Fuck. That is not good. He has been reeking of it for days, his scent growing more pungent with his mood directly following. Going into a Rut anywhere public was not appropriate, even less so in a room full of mostly alphas and omegas.

_“Did I fucking stutter? I need you to come get him stat, I already had to send the gymnasts out on a two mile run just to get them off the premises, and they’re quick little bitches, so move it.”_

“I’m leaving right now,” she says, already heading for the door, grabbing the car keys as she walks, phone jammed between her ear and her shoulders.

_“And, you know, dress like a nun or whatever. Last thing this dump needs is a public indecency violation because Fucker couldn’t keep his knot in his pants long enough for you to get him home.”_

She stops in her tracks, looking down at the summer dress she's wearing. It’s fairly modest by any standards, but gods know Lance might be way past those. “Thanks, Hope,” she bites out, hanging up.

Looking back at her dress, she hesitates just a moment too long before giving a low growl and stomping upstairs to change. It is hot as Satan’s armpit, and she still wrangles into the most unattractive sweats she owns and pulls on one of Lance’s hoodies that is several sizes too large, the sleeves flopping around until she shoves them up to her elbows.

The drive over is tense, and Hope is waiting outside, arms crossed over her chest. She is unusually short for an Alpha, but as anyone who has spent any amount of time with Hope can attest, she makes up in attitude for what she lacks in traditional build.

“What the fuck took you so long, huh? I had to send the little shits on another run!” Hope pushes up her sunglasses, wrinkling her nose as she tosses a set of keys. “And what the fuck are you wearing?”

“You’re the one who told me to dress like a nun, Hope,” she bites back, catching the keys and storming past her.

“Get him out and try not to stink up the place!” Hope calls out, and gets wave in appeasement.

Lance’s scent hits her the second she step inside. It’s heavy and sour, carrying with it his failed attempt at suppressing it for the sake of his work.  _Stubborn fucking bastard_ , she thinks, steeling herself against the part of the scent that persistently tugs at her presentation, sets a fire smoldering low in her stomach. Rounding the corner, she comes up to his office. The blinds of the single window are pulled, and she takes a deep breath. Fuck, this better be quick.

“Lance? Baby, it’s me. I’m gonna open the door, okay?”

The scent flips on a dime, the sour note darkening into irritation laced with a lust he can’t deny. She's prepared to be pulled in and bent over his desk, but when she slips into the room, there only seems to be his scent there.

“Save it.”

His voice, dark and bitter, comes out sharp from a corner. Lance is sitting down, jaw tensed, staring mindlessly ahead. Even in the low light, she can see the sweat beading on his forehead, the white t-shirt under his coach jacket clinging to his chest.

“Lance, come on. We’ll go home,” she tries, edging closer to him, and his eyes snap up to her.

“I’m fine,” Lance grits out, wringing his hands and focusing his gaze on them.

She pulls the door closed, letting her hands come to rest on her hips. “For fuck’s sake… No, you’re not! You have been heading this way for days and I tried to ask you to stay close to home. Did you listen? No, because you are a piece of shit Alpha with a pride that almost rivals your goddamn ego and gods forbid this gym goes one day without Olympic gold medalist Lance Tucker on duty! Fuck, do you even realize what a dumbass risky move this was? Hope had to send everyone out so there wouldn’t be an incident.”

Pushing his buttons is one way to get things moving, and bringing up the risk this posed to his precious gym? Bingo. He finally gets up, slow and twitchy, trying to control himself and keep his shit together. His jaw twitches when he takes a breath, picks up on her scent.

“If I’m such a piece of shit Alpha…” Lance speaks slowly, avoiding her eyes, “who obviously can’t do anything right… why are you with me? Huh? Bet you could find a nice, supportive Alpha who does what he’s supposed to do in no time, hmm? Or a Beta who won't have these problems at all.”

She doesn’t need to scent the air to pick up on the bitterness, the cedar of his scent turning scorched and overpowering the soft vanilla notes of her own scent. Heaving a sigh, she shakes her head. Lance is Alpha personified; big, strong and protective, but also a high achiever, striving for perfection in his own pursuits, his own worst critic. Shaking her head, she closes the distance, placing her palms over his damp chest. The warmth radiates through the soaked fabric, and she hums at the potent sensations.

“Because you’re my piece of shit Alpha,” she replies in a purr, looking up at him and batting her eyelashes. “Lemme take you home, okay? Let your Omega take you home, show you just how much she enjoys taking your knot.”

It’s hard to miss how his chest puffs up just a little, the slight rumble that vibrates up his throat. Supposedly, omegas are the meek and submissive presentation, easily subjugated by Alphas. It’s a presumption that makes her want to laugh. Have Alphas ever seen themselves? Lance relaxes infinitesimally underneath her hands, his own coming to pull up the zipper of his jacket. Wordlessly, he steps aside, wrapping one arm around her to leave.

Hope is still waiting outside, and she does an exaggerated shrug when she spots the two of you coming through the front door.

“Took you fucking long enough!” she calls out, then pushes her sunglasses up and zeroes in on Lance. “And you, Fucker. If I see you in the next five days, I’m fucking mauling your ass and sending you home in your sweaty gym bag.”

Lance rushes at the other Alpha, pushing in close and baring his teeth, a feral growl rising in his throat. Hope responds in kind, eyes hard and her own scent growing prickly.

“Don’t… fuck with me, Gregory,” he warns her, fists balled up tight by his sides.

“Do I look like I’m fucking creaming for you, Fucker?”

Lance’s nostrils flare, his pearly white teeth flashing. “You’ll f-"

Rolling her eyes, she steps between them, pushing at her Alpha’s chest and turning to Hope, lips pulling back in a snarl. “Enough.”

Her voice does not carry the same weighted command as an alpha’s, but it’s enough to break the knot-measuring contest happening. Lance’s heart is beating hard under the palm of her hand, and she needs to get him out of here now. Hope should have gone with the gymnasts, bark at them instead.

“Hope, he’s coming home with me. Everyone’s happy. Go run the ventilation and have a fucking protein bar.”

Hope looks like she has a venomous reply on her tongue, but she is not given the chance to fuck shit up even more than she already has. Lance is by no means a small man, but he follows when he is pulled towards the car, aggression wafting off of him.

The ride home is quiet, tension growing thick enough to cut through in the small, enclosed space. Every so often, she glances at him, and every time, his gaze is trained on the road, the muscle in his jaw flexing and his hands balled into tight fists on his thighs. He's holding back, aggression slowly giving way to arousal, making his scent thick and alluring. It’s impossible not to react, not to press her legs together, bite her lower lip, think ahead and keep quiet. Lance's nostrils flare when he picks up her scent, the scowl on his face deepening.

“Hey… we're home.”

He is coiled like a spring when she puts her hands over his, breathing slow and shallow. No matter how she tries to seek out his gaze, he keeps it trained forward.

“Alpha?”

“Three minutes,” he bites out, voice low and gravelly. “I need you to go inside, get ready. Don't care where, don't need no flashy nest.”

“Lance-”

“Three. Minutes.” Finally he turns, looks at her, his expression softening just a touch. “I need three minutes, Omega. Alone. Let me find you.”

She hesitates only for a moment, a slow exhale leaving her at the mention of her presentation. Leaving Lance in the passenger seat, she hurries up the little driveway, sparing him a final glance when she opens the door. He's just as she left him, staring down at his lap with his shoulders moving in slow, measured breaths. Three minutes. The heat in her stomach flares a little.

_Let me find you._

Lance's hoodie drops just inside the door, her scent rubbed into the cuffs of the sleeves. Her bra follows just beyond the kitchen, sweats discarded in the middle of the stairs. Down to her underwear, already damp with slick, she hesitates in the hallway. It jars her a little not to have a nest prepared, even if it has always been mostly for her benefit. She likes it, having a cocoon where only she and her Alpha exist, where they can give themselves to their bodies, to the wants and needs of their respective presentations.

Outside, she hears the faint sound of a car door opening and closing. Right. Shimmying out of her panties, she opens a door, slipping inside for just a moment before returning and heading to the bedroom. Lance might not care where, but she knows that the bed is at least tried and tested and can stand Ruts and Heats. The sheets are cool against her bare skin, soft and still rumpled from the way they both had tossed and turned during the night. Lance's covers are flung halfway off the bed, and she pulls them to her, wrapping her legs around them and inhaling the scent of him. He should have stayed home. His Rut lingers in the soft cotton, does he think he can just once ignore it and it won't happen? She fists the covers in her hands, pulling at it and sighing when it brushes over her bare skin. Fucking Lance. Proud goddamn idiot. He should have stayed home. They both could have stayed home. They could have already been fucking-

The door flies open, and Lance looks like a giant in the doorway, down to his boxers that are straining against his cock. His nostrils flare at the sight of her, and she can't help the cocky little smile she gives him. He is a vision, she thinks, a specimen even now when he's not competing anymore. Lance is proud of his body, keeps it in shape, sculpts it to show lean muscle and defined abs, the v of his Adonis belt drawing the gaze to the tattoo, its red, white and blue disappearing into the waistband of his boxers.

“Where is it,” he bites out, holding up his hand to show the scraps of her panties.

“Winners don't get things handed to them, Alpha. They fight for it,” she retorts, playing with the corners of his covers.

“So show me what I have to fight for, Omega.”

She arches an eyebrow in challenge, and Lance hooks his thumbs into his underwear, slides them down and steps out of them. He's deliciously hard, and she bites her lip thinking about how well he'll stretch her, the pleasure that awaits her at his hand. With a flourish, she pulls the covers away, showing him his prize. Her body, soft and bare, the scent of her slick wafting from her. Her legs are crossed demurely at her ankles, making a cradle at the apex of her thighs where his Olympic gold rests on her mound. Lance makes a hungry sound, fingers twitching. She expects him to pounce, to wrangle her onto her hands and knees, knot her hard and fierce and finally let go.

But Lance moves slowly when he finally unfreezes, his steps slow and measured as he closes the distance to the bed and crawls onto it. His grip is steady but not too tight when he uncrosses her ankles, palms sliding up to her knees before he parts her legs. The medal slides down as if on cue, making her gasp when it glides through her slick, creating another barrier for him.

“Nothing but gold for my Alpha,” she purrs, tipping her head back when he starts kissing slowly, slowly up her thighs, rumbling low in his chest and making her skin break out in goosebumps.

“Gold is fought for,” Lance croons, running his fingertips around the edge of the medal, sending spikes of arousal through her as he grazes her slick folds. “Gold… is earned.”

“So earn it. Show me you’re my Alpha.”

She’s not the one having her biology going on a rampage, and it still feels like she is more eager than he is. He’s home, he can let go, and he is still holding back-

“Fuck!”

Lance has nudged the medal aside to lick a thick, long strip up her slit, tongue delving between her folds to taste her. Her back arches off the bed, hands flying to grab hold of that perfectly gelled hair, tugging at him. What is he doing? He holds position, all but impervious to her attempts to pull him up, to make him give in. The most she gets is a grunt that if anything proves more pleasurable for her when the vibration goes straight to her aching center.

“Fuck, Lance, you- I’m ready, we’re okay, fuck, what-”

He finally looks up, his dilated pupils giving him a hungry expression. His lips are glossy wet from her slick, and he makes a show of licking them slowly, his wolf flashing in the smile he shoots her.

“No one won gold by skimping on prepping, omega,” he tells her, and yeah, there is his hunger, his urgency, his need. “I’m gonna knot you, baby, I’m gonna make you feel me for days after my Rut is over, and I’m gonna make fucking sure that you cum for me every… single… time.”

Her response is a long moan when he ducks back down, closing his lips around her aching clit. Pleasure undulates through her, her back arching off the bed as he works her higher and higher. Lance mumbles, words slurring to where she can barely make them out, and they finally morph into a groan when he slips two fingers into her, pumping sedately to stretch her, make her slick run even more.

He adds one finger, growling at her keening cries, and by the time he slips a fourth into her, she is begging, incoherent in her desperate attempts to make him snap. All the words she wants to say swirl around in her head, but few make it past her lips. She wants to cuss him out, taunt him into either making her cum or taking what he needs, but somehow her Alpha has found his focus in making her ready for him and there is little to do but follow along.

When he orders her to cum, she’s clawing at him, a blaze in her veins that feels almost like the first days of her Heats, and she presses herself against his hand, searching for his knot, for that final stretch that will make her mind short out. Slowly, slowly, Lance eases his fingers out of her, sucking them clean with exaggerated moans while she pants and tries to make the world come together again.

“Present.”

It’s dark and salacious, the way he draws a coo from her. Her body moves, finding the energy to roll over, pull her knees up towards her belly and spread her legs.

“Fuck… Such a good girl for me, omega, fuck… Took everythin’ in me not to bend you over my desk, fuck, I needed it so fucking bad. Couldn’t-” His words drown in a moan when he slicks up his cock along her slit, setting the swollen head against her entrance.

The words are left hanging, forgotten the second he pushes in. She meowls, arching her back and fisting the sheets so hard she can still feel her nails digging into her palms. Lance lets go, his hands on her hips greedy as they press and push, claiming her as if it was their first time. Each thrust is a delicious stretch, the second he lingers bottomed out inside her like a little nirvana where life feels complete and fulfilled. Chanting his name, his title inbetween moans, she eggs him on, stroking the pride in Lance's chest, making him purr against her skin.  _His. His omega, all his, presenting so pretty, taking him deep, a perfect fit for his cock, gonna squeeze his knot so fucking good._

None of it comes out as words, his wolf growling through gnashed teeth and her own responds with high keens, making her back arch lower. Need, desire, pleasure, it sparks through them, permeates their minds and bodies. It creates an overwhelming sensation in her chest that swells with every lewd moan.

When her second orgasm washes over her, she falls down flat on her stomach, legs trembling as she tries to shy away from him. Lance only growls, gripping her hips to pull her back and slip into her again. The base of him kisses her folds with every thrust, and she can feel his knot starting to swell. Her stomach flips in anticipation, heat burning through her and she clenches around him, moaning at the thought of how they'll be locked together soon.

Lance whispers, raggedly breathes along her skin how good she is. She preens, takes him, moans for her Alpha.

Third orgasm and her body convulses with pleasure. Lance can't pull her up this time so he leans over her, slick skin against slick skin and grinds into her, works her sensitive body, licks up her spine between her shoulder blades and gently sets his teeth against the hinge of her neck. Her wolf screams, howls for his bite, but her voice doesn't carry enough for words. She’ll take all he gives her. Knot. Bite. Pups. Lance. Alpha. He groans above her, sensing the spike in her scent. Soon.

“One more, omega, gotta give me one more,” he growls, lips grazing her skin.

She wants to tell him she's got nothing more to give, she's soaring and she can't she can’t she can't, but Lance rumbles, the vibrations setting her aflame. Another pointed thrust and his knot starts pushing against her, swollen and hard and she moans long and lewd, aching for him. One hand fumbles blindly for him, hooks around his neck to anchor her. It arches her neck tantalizingly for him, a perfect curve of smooth skin, her unmarked bonding gland on display for him. He's so close, she can feel him, his breath against her skin, the delicious stretch of his knot, the heat of their bodies. Her voice is nothing but moans, wordless pleas for more and for less, for everything and nothing. Lance whispers praises in her ear between grunts, but even he devolves into moans and when his knot finally slips inside, he lets out a howl, his hands slipping around her wrists to hold tightly. She follows him over the edge, falling as he fills her, thoughts swirling into a future that is both sharp and soft, a mess and yet so crystalline she can almost sense the scent of their pups in her arms.

She comes to slowly, enveloped in her Alpha’s scent, mellowed from the knotting into a comforting woodsy scent that makes her hum. They’re on their side, Lance’s arms wrapped around her, nose pressed to her neck. Their blankets have been bunched around her legs and head to allow her some comfort while they’re locked together.

“There you are.”

Lance sounds so much softer, all hard edges brushed away. It makes her shiver that he can drop his hard exterior, the tough veneer he puts up because he is Olympic Medalist and Team USA Coach Lance Tucker. With her he can be Lance Tucker, no more or less. He presses a kiss to her shoulder.

“I was an asshole, wasn’t I?” Lance sounds like a little boy, ashamed and humbled.

She draws a breath, craning her neck to catch his lips in a gentle kiss, “Maybe a little.”

“I should have stayed home.”

“Definitely.”

“I… I’m sorry. I was an asshole Alpha to you,” Lance whispers, hugging her tighter.

“Yeah, you were,” she affirms, running a hand through his damp hair, the locks starting to curl at the ends. “But you’re my asshole Alpha. And I’m not saying that I don’t understand how much the gym and the coaching means to you, but if you want me to stay your omega, you need to make a better effort, Tucker.”

“I will, baby, I swear. I’ll be the best for you.”

“Mmm… Sweet words. I’ll give it 8.8.”

Lance smiles against her, kissing her deep and hungry with a rumble. “That sounds promising…”

“Mmm, but you only scored a 5.2 difficulty… because you should have known better,” she adds, pulling away.

“Baby…”

“Full 10.0 for the knotting, though.”

“So where does that land me, hmm?” Lance laves up her neck, her breath hitching as he pushes down over her bonding gland “Do I need to butter up the judge?”

“Keep chasing that gold, Alpha,” she purrs, sighing when she squirms and his half-swollen knot slips from her. “It’s right in front of you.”

Lance gives a wicked grin, wolf glinting in his dark eyes, “Oh, I intend to, omega…”


End file.
